


staying to stop the bleeding

by Gabby



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Aftermath, Angst, Driving, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Dates, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, My First Work in This Fandom, Then resolved, Unresolved Romantic Tension, because I said so, i guess, little bit, start of relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-06-04 14:28:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6662509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabby/pseuds/Gabby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-finale. Lucifer and Chloe share a moment after everything's gone down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Got uber inspired after the finale. Holy shit! Is all I gots to say! Holy shit! I have a couple of ideas but, decided to start small. Didn't wanna scare myself off on the first try. ;)

"It seems someone's gone quiet." Chloe hears from her left after a long silence that she hadn't been aware of, she's been soo deep in her own head. Mind still reeling a mile per minute thanks to the... last few hours... Days, last few days...

She glances towards the just-spoken voice's host.

Her risen-from-the-dead partner.

Her... _something_ significant.

Partner. Friend. Devil on her shoulder?

She has no idea how he's still alive. She'd _seen_ Malcolm shoot him! It's just not-

 _What? Possible?_ Her inner mind taunts her. It is really amazing how, in recent months, her perception of possible could change. She's seen things that her nineteen-year-old self would laugh at if she'd heard.

She takes in the man in her passenger's seat.

For someone who's been through what he has - someone she's so certain she had witnessed be shot and die - he looks no less like he'd just stepped out of a GQ catalogue. Everything immaculate and in it's place.

Practically perfect.

Perfect hair. Perfect jawline surrounded by stubble. Perfect face.

_Perfect. Perfect. Perfect._

Like a deep, placid lake. Calm on the surface and with so much underneath. 

Who would have ever known that she'd ever think that of Lucifer of all people?

But, oh, here she is.

Allowing her partner/friend/devil to escort her home even though she's the one driving while Trixie sleeps exhaustedly in the backseat.

Her daughter had been kidnapped by one of the most vile people she'd ever known.

Her ex-husband is in jail.

And she had almost lost her... _Lucifer_. She had almost lost _Lucifer_.

God, she needs to stop doing that.

"I have a lot on my mind. I guess." She says honestly, though carefully keeping her eyes on the road.

There's a brief pause from beside her and then a sigh followed by. "It seems we both do." 

The uncharacteristically somber words twists something in her chest as she is reminded that not only had she most certainly watched him die but, there had also been a good chance there that he could have seen her get killed, too.

If he hadn't have come for her and Trixie. 

(If he hadn't have _died_ for them.)

This is maybe the thousandth time she has thought about that very fact since she left the warehouse and Malcolm Graham's corpse behind with her fellow officers. 

And she still doesn't feel like crying any less about it than she had when it first broke through her subconscious. Crying at the memory of his body bleeding out on that floor. Being unable to get to him before-

It doesn't take much longer for them to reach the house and it only takes but, a few minutes of wrangling to wake Trixie up again to get her inside, the tall, dark shadow of her partner following wordlessly, for once.

It's strangely comforting, considering the past few hours.

And her poor, brave little girl is so dead on her feet that she barely argues when she tells her to head to upstairs for a bath before and that she'd see her there in a minute. Only pausing and walking to Lucifer at the last moment and wrapping her small around his waist. For the first time, lacking in her usual enthusiasm and energy.

 _My poor baby_. She thinks, heart tightening painfully in her chest as he barely flinches and instead leans into the embrace, patting Trixie on the top of the head in a surprisingly non-awkward fashion.

It seems that she's the only one bent out of shape over Lucifer's death and it looks like her daughter's unusual silence on the way home has echoed itself in the hug she's giving him now.

"Goodnight, Lucifer." She says earnestly and with a last squeeze, runs off up the stairs and honestly, if she had been in the right mindset, Chloe would have laughed at the godsmacked expression on the tall man's face.

"She's just really glad you're okay." She utters needlessly. Quietly. The same way she had in that airstrip. Feeling foolish for some reason other than he had died and she's so sure she had seen him bleed out on that cold floor and-

_"I thought he'd killed you."_

"Detective..."

It takes a good long moment to realize that her eyes have strayed towards the area of his once clean, expensive shirt.

The same shirt still soaked in his now dried - yet copious, God, why, _why_ is there so much of it? - blood.

"Chloe?"

It's the tone of his voice that grabs her. Soft. Low. Deep. Steady.

And it doesn't occur how much she likes the way he says her name (her _first_ name) until now.

Her head shoots up to look him in the face and her vision's blurry now and her chest is tight and christ, she can't do this. Not now. Not in front of him. Not like this!

She isn't ready... 

Her mouth opens to speak - to say anything at all, _anything_ to make this stop - but, to her horror, something high-pitched and frighteningly similar to a sob escapes instead and her hand instinctively comes up to muffle it. 

Her arm comes up to curl under her abdomen, as though the action would calm her, even if it's for naught.

Perfect. She'd gone and done it now.

"Oh my god." She whispers into nothing in particular as her increasingly concerned (very much _alive_ ) partner stands in front of her. "You... You died..." She adds, every single detail coming back to her with a force.

It's like all the adrenalin and determination and strength of will that had come from wanting to save her daughter and handle Malcolm has been draining out of her system ever since they'd started driving towards the house and has finally extinguished itself by the sight of Lucifer and his bloody shirt and the fact that they're alone now and Trixie is safe and sound upstairs and she can't even _begin_ to reconcile how grateful she is for the man in front of her and that he's here, now, alive and breathing and-

"Chloe..." She doesn't even realize how close he's gotten 'til he's right there. The warmth of him searing her through her clothes. His breath blowing over her face as he gently (she doesn't think he's ever been this gentle with anyone) turns her slightly to face him again and it's testament to how depleted and drained and tired - oh, how _tired_ she feels - she is that Chloe barely acknowledges how this is the closest they've ever been and how this is essentially the first instance she has ever let him touch her and instead accepts his gesture of comfort, curling up with nary a care and balling in earnest onto his chest.

And he takes all of it. Banding a long arm around her and letting her tears stain the rest of his button-up. Her fingers gripping him through her need to be as close as she needs right now.

He also says nothing. Silently offering her the support she's been in desperate need of since lord knows how long.

He's steady, she notes. And firm. Strong. So damn strong. Fine and expensive, tailored clothing made him look good all the time. Highlighting his tall frame and making everyone around him take notice. Solid, sinewy muscle smoothed over beneath designer duds.

She had seen him throw physically throw a man through glass without so much as effort and lift another up the air with one hand in a frightening fit of rage.

Yet, he would never hurt her. Instead harnessing all that power and strength into holding her.

And god, it's been so long since someone's held her.

All her logic and reasoning and excuses cannot always attest for the things she'd witnessed. That maybe there might be a chance that her partner is exactly who he says he is and that as she starts believing him, she should scared. More freaked. Afraid out of her mind for her life. For her daughter's life.

But... she's just not. So, if one day, she sees something she can't come back from and maybe, just maybe, she can finally accept all that she's been in denial over... she'll think of this. Of all the moments before it. Of him saving her life. Pushing to work with her despite her attempts to push him away. Tearing his way into her life to the point that it's impossible to get him out.

Of him just being there when she'd needed him. Coming to hers and Trixie's aid even after she had told him not to.

She'll think of all that. But, most of all, she'll remind herself of how much she trusts him and underneath all that glamor and showmanship, lies a good man she cares more about than she's willing to admit to.

"Am I to assume, based on the plugging of the tears, that you feel better now?" 

Never let it be said that Lucifer Morningstar can't let it a serious moment pass without saying a line like that to break it.

It brings her back to the moment at hand: She's wrapped in the arms of a man she'd once upon a time told herself she would never touch let alone embrace like this.

It takes a double effort to move away and out of his hug because he's strong and solid and smells beautiful and expensive and his voice rumbling in his chest causes her belly to clench, but she forces herself to, anyway.

She pays him on the chest lightly to signal for him to let her go and pushes away her own disappointment when he does, sniffling away latent tears and says. "I'm sorry." Her cheeks red from more than just crying, she adds. "I thought I'd be dried up for at least a week, I didn't-"

"There's no need." He interrupts gently, crouching a bit from his height to meet her eye with a curl of his lips. "Happy I could be of service."

There's a moment there. A moment in which they just look at each other and she watches his expression closely. Said expression similar to when they had those words after everything had gone down in the hanger. His face seeming at turns faintly troubled, pleased, and something she still won't allow herself to dwell on.

Then, the moment is done when he sighs, low and heavy in the air between them, and turns slightly in the direction of her kitchen, face set in a sort of sadness she can't help but understand. "Well, I'd better be going-"

"Wait!" She blurts out, sudden panic gripping her and without thinking, she grabs at his wrist with the strongest hold she could manage.

He turns back to her and as both their eyes look down to see her hand holding his much bigger one, he sighs again and says, somewhat hoarsely. Struggling with himself. "Chloe..." Gaze not leaving their hands.

"Please don't go." She says with as much honesty as she can muster in the moment. Tears threatening to spill again. Taking in the wounded look on his downturned face.

"Chloe, I-"

If he keeps saying her name like that, she won't be held responsible for her actions.

She takes another step closer to him, stilling and quieting him. "Please, I..." She tries to explain, hoping he would get it. That he would understand. "...You... I..."

She can't say it. Even now, she's still too scared to cross that threshold.

Nevermind the fact that they're both too vulnerable. She feels weak and exhausted and had watched him die for her and her daughter. Even now that Trixie is safe and unharmed, there's still soo many things to take care of. Dan might go to prison. She has to deal with explaining what happened with Malcolm. She has to call her mother. She has other things to worry about that have nothing to do with her conflicted heart.

Even so, she needs him. She just doesn't know how to say it.

She's about to open her mouth to do that - to try again, at least - but, then he chooses that moment to look up from their clasped hands and their eyes connect once more and-

-And steals her breath from her.

His eyes... already a dark, _wonderful_ abyss she can sometimes see herself lost in, liquid and intense, stare her down.

He looks as though he can see straight into her soul and it's at times like this that she questions how she's even immune to him at all.

"Chloe?"

Her name on his lips brings forth her courage. "Stay." She whispers, afraid to shatter the moment more than anything. "Please." She adds, getting a little closer to the point of craning her neck to see him correctly. Still gripping his wrist.

She doesn't know what she's offering right now. The guest room? The couch? 

Her bed?

The very thought of the last option gives her a shiver that has little to do with the past few hours.

She's not sure if her thoughts flicker that obviously across her face but, like with most things, he spots it ( _of course_ , he does) and takes his own step closer to her. His hand sliding and entwining with hers. Gazing into her eyes. A look in his own that sends butterflies to cause havoc in her chest.

"I wish that I could." He utters sincerely, his proximity and presence accelerating her heartbeat. Eyes fathomless and deep. Butterflies turning to moths in her belly."I wholeheartedly do, but I have something-"

"No, of course." She looks down from his hypnotic eyes, shaking her head. Feeling stupid and foolish already. "I didn't mean-" 

"I want to." He says, voice raspy and hoarse. Stealing her ability to think.

Then he's knuckling his way under her chin and making her look him in the eyes again. Keeping her from hiding. 

"There's nothing that I want more." He admits with determination. Gaze fusing her with conviction. "You _must_ know that."

She wants to say she hadn't known until now but, he chooses then to swipe his thumb on her bottom lip, eyes dropping to her mouth, and oh.

He starts to lean down, bringing her closer and before she could think herself out of it, she's leaning up and up, her breath catching from the intent behind his eyes and- 

"Mommy!" 

And just like that.

He sighs heavily and she doesn't pretend not to note the disappointment there. Watching the slight slump in his shoulders even as he smiles and steps a foot away from her. "Your spawn has such wonderful timing." He says, half-teasing and she can't help but laugh, still a little breathless. 

"Right." She exhales, sliding a hand over her chest to calm her still racing heart. An exhilarated breath escaping. The tension from before dissolving.

She feels girlish and thrilled and more than a bit crazed.

It's a whole of feelings oddly out of place with everything else.

Whether it's good or bad, she doesn't know.

She looks at Lucifer giving one of his strange looks again, his head cocked to the side and before she can say anything, he's stepping forward and close  once again, shutting her up as he slowly (slowly, _so_ slowly) brings up his hand and lays it on her cheek. 

"Hmm." He murmurs, eyes roving over her in a way that causes her throat tighten. "I would much rather stay..."

She swallows under the weight of his eyes. His gorgeous, expressive eyes. The manner in which he's looking at her. Taking her in.

"But, you can't."

"I can't." He concedes, half-smiling at her and after a thoughtful moment, leans down and her own breath wooshes out as his lips meet her forehead. Maleness and the scent of spice and something other making her dizzy. Soothing and settling her from the inside like warm soup.

His lips are soft and firm on the patch of skin near her hairline. Taking a deep breath of his own and then saying. "Goodnight, darling."

Her eyes stay closed. Refusing to let go of him. This whole moment in time.

(As it turns out, she likes it when he calls her darling.)

After tonight, she deserves this much. She might be frightened to ask for more. To take what's so obviously been hers to from the beginning maybe... But, she can have this for now.

When he steps away from her, she's scared to breathe. 

And when she does, it's as if to say  _finally_.

"Goodnight, Lucifer."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

She should be but, (their night being what it was) she is not surprised to find him in her kitchen the next morning.

"Seriously, you have got to cut this out."

Even as she says, voice dripping with she hopes to be sternness and agita, she is _not_ nearly as annoyed as she could be.

(Despite who her partner is, she hadn't expected to see him so soon.

Whatever it is he had to attend to, it'd seemed pretty serious enough to leave when they had almost-)

"Morning to you, too, darling." He greets her, cheerful as you please and flipping an omelette with as much showmanship as she's ever seen on anybody.

She tries her very best to glower at him but, she can smell bacon and fresh brewed coffee from where she's standing so, there ends  _that._

"And Beatrice? I don't see your little rugrat jumping at me from anywhere." He utters, looking around this way and that in only the way he can. "She's not hiding, is she?"

"She is at Julia's house." At his questioning look, she adds. "Her babysitter. I decided not to take her to school today."

He lays an omelette and a few slices of bacon on her plate where she sits at her kitchen counter. Serveware and her favorite mug already set up with utensils. 

She should really be more unnerved by his familiarity with her kitchen.

"Is she... alright?" He asks after a long silence as he pours her coffee and when she looks up from the life elixir to his face, he furthers. "The child. No night terrors? Trouble sleeping? Horrid thoughts of that maggot Malcolm because if-"

"She's fine, Lucifer." She says, not only because he so clearly looks so uncomfortable asking about Trixie despite also seeming genuine but, he also looks to be going down a tanget the likes of which she can't possibly sift through in a single morning so- "She slept in my room. She had... some trouble." She admits, thinking of late night whimpers and her daughter clutching her close. "But, she's gonna be okay, I think."

He still looks bothered even as he nods to himself, eyes on compiling his own breakfast.

She reaches out for his hand without really thinking about it in the moment. "Hey." She tilts her head to catch his eye and when he grants her the contact, she offers up a small smile. "It's because of you that she's gonna be okay. We're here because of you. Thank you."

To say he looks blown away would be a serious understatement and she, honest to god, savors it. It's not everyday you can gain that kind of reaction from a man like him.

(Though if you're her, it's less rare. She reminds herself.)

Peaking down and realizing their position, she clears her throat to distract from his suddenly softer eyes and her  _much_ softer resolve and adds, half-teasing. "Besides, she didn't need another to fall in love but, you managed it with that so..."

Trying to chuckle through her sudden nerves, she tries to sneak her hand away from his.

Only for him to take it back. Snatching it under his with speed and holding with to him with such intent that she's left staring at their hands with surprise.

"Is she the only one?"

She looks up at him. He's gazing at her, eyes deep and dark and probing. "Beatrice." He expands, voice low and steady. "Is she the only of the Decker women I've softened the heart of?"

Hers  _does_ flip upside down in her chest at the earnest expression in his eyes. Intense. Clear with intention. Much like he had last night when-

"Lucifer-"

"If I may." He intercepts, the intensity ratcheting up to ten and she can barely breathe on it. "Because I have come here   to ask you something. If it's at all possible-"

"Lucifer, I-"

"I came to extend an invitation-"

"An invitation, I don't-"

"I have come to a realization last night, I-"

"Me, too, it-"

"Oh, for Father's sake-"

"Lucifer-"

"I have come here to ask you to dinner." He finishes in clear agitation. Causing her to fall silent. Surprise rushing through her ten times over.

Did he just really...?

The most unexpected thing about it though is how  _not_ opposed she is to the idea if he has. "When you say ask me, you mean...?"

He pauses, gazing at her as if to gauge her carefully. Maintains it. Then: 

"Will you have dinner with me, Chloe?"

She stares at him. Breathless. Nervous. 

She thinks about last night. Crying into his chest. Letting him hold her.

Not wanting him to leave. Her. Trixie. The  _planet._ Not ever.

She never wants to go through that again. Never wants to lose him again.

He drives her crazy and she's fairly certain he feels the same. He's irritating and rule-breaking and too reckless for words... And he's charming and funny and good company when he wasn't trying too hard and turned her down when she was drunk and-

And he's quite possibly one of the most beautiful men she's ever seen. Tall, dark, and handsome is a perfect identifier for him.

And he's cooked her breakfast and made coffee and looks so good standing in his nice suit and white shirt in the middle of her kitchen while she's in her pajamas still with messy hair and no make-up and-

"Okay." She says softly. Heart thumping madly against her ribs. 

He eyes her a beat. "Yes?"

Nothing like taking a risk to make you wanna take a heart exam. "Yes."

They eat a slightly cooled breakfast at her kitchen counter together and between pleased glances and hands brushing occasionally, she finally realizes that she hasn't smiled this much in a long time.

He brushes a soft kiss on her knuckles before he leaves and she waits.

Waits some more.

Then promptly drops her face into her hands and  _squeals._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! :) Wanted to leave a happier ending than the last one, at least. Did it work? ;)


	3. Chapter 3

"Chloe..." The man, looking very much like the Devil he likes to say he is, says. Leaning against her doorway. Pure sin in black suit and deep blue dress shirt. "You look ravishing."

Heartbeat ratcheting up a notch, Chloe ignores the urge to fidget in her high heels. "Thank you. You, too." She adds, just to be safe.

And because, as always, he does. Not that she would  _tell him_ that but, yes, he looks as unfairly coiffed as expected.

Although, considering how this started out, she may have to.

She hadn't meant to slam the door in his face. Honest.

It was an accident.

He'd just looked so like...  _Lucifer_. Standing there on her doorstep. Smirk already in place. Looking more handsome and sexy than even he had a right to be.

And she had panicked. Badly.

She'd been nervous all day. Thinking about this... date she was going on with him. With Lucifer. 

She had been dressed and ready and perfumed by the time he had rung her doorstep.

He never rings her doorbell. 

It's only the polite, gentlemanly thing to do.

And she had slammed the door in his face.

She took one look at him, darkly perfect and damned irresistible... and promptly slammed her door in his stupid, perfect face.

Slammed. It. Right. In. His. Face.

God, she's deficient. Prepared to screw this up before it could even begin.

_Nice, Decker. Real nice._

A deep, masculine chuckle reverberated from the other side of the closed door and she had almost rushed to open it again before stopping herself.

Almost.

A gentle knock followed. "Detective?"

Had she not been so close to the door, his voice would have been muffled but, she is and it's not so- "Lucifer?"

"Chloe?" The man on the other side of her mused.

"Lucifer?" She was able to get out nervously.

"What, pray tell, are you doing?"

Her hands found the wood of her door without conscious though and she sighed, leaning her forehead against it. "I don't think if I can do this." She hears herself admit, wincing at her own honesty.

Silence greets her words and for a moment, she thinks he's left before she hears him through the door again. "What are you saying?"

His voice comes out odd and stilted and she curses herself, lightly bumping her head against the door. 

"I..." She trails off, hesitating. "I don't know what I'm saying." She says, shutting her eyes in embarrassment even though he obviously can't see her.

Or, knowing him, he probably can. Weirder things have happened with him and she can attest to that.

"Having second thoughts?" He asks, voice still and careful. "Decided against going to dinner after all?"

"No." She shakes her head against the wood grain. The feeling odd on her skin. "No. I do. I want to, it's just. I-"

"Darling?"

"Yes?" She responds immediately to the petname without a second thought. 

"Open the door."

She takes a deep breath that she's almost certain he could hear. "Lucifer-"

"Having this conversation on opposite sides of a closed door is ridiculous." He utters plainly. "I would much prefer us face to face. Wouldn't you agree?"

She does and so, that's how they find themselves here. Standing awkwardly opposite each other at her front door.

He thinks she's ravishing. 

Dear lord, she has no idea what she's doing.

She hasn't dated in years. Her history isn't that extensive to begin with anyway. 

Taking off her top in that stupid movie had gotten her the wrong kind of attention and she had done her best to avoid it. Dating and relationships were few and far in between and the most serious she's ever gotten with someone was with Dan and during the separation, she had never bothered with anyone else.

Until, admittedly, Lucifer.

She was married for over a decade! What the hell is she doing here?!

She doesn't do this! She doesn't go on dates with gorgeous - albeit, oft times irritating and arrogant - rich men with mysterious histories.

Let alone one who's also her partner.

Who believes himself to be the Devil.

Who she's starting to believe is -  _oh, for crap's sake!_

"Sorry about that." She says, straight as an arrow now, forcing herself to meet his dark, sparkling gaze. "I didn't mean to-"

"Slam your door in my face?" He finishes for her and she's honestly relieved to find that he's settled for amusement above all else.

She nods. What the hell? "Yeah. Yes." She laughs - a weird, breathy sound that exhales out of her but, a  _laugh_ nonetheless - and almost moves to cover it up before remembering that she's wearing lipstick because  _date_.

Yes. She is, indeed, wearing lipstick. For a date. With Lucifer.

Which is- okay, she doesn't not wear make-up. But, things like contoured eyeshadow, actual blush, and yes, lipstick aren't things she often bothers with unless she absolutely has to.

(Functions and undercover stints for the Department didn't count. Even those few case-related incidents with her partner couldn't tally either.)

Normally she thinks she cleans up fine. Good. Well enough.

And anyway, she glances at Lucifer. It's not like she's going out with your average joe-schoo tonight.

"I don't know why I did that." She hears herself admit. Something instinctual consoling her that sharing this with him wouldn't hurt her.

The amusement falls away from his face as if it'd never been there to begin with and her chest constricts as he gazes at her openly. "Darling, there's no need to be nervous. Not with me." He adds, as if to drive the point home at the skepticism she's sure appears on her face, slight though it may be.

"I, honestly, I thought I would ever hear those words coming out of your mouth."

"I'm almost certain I haven't a clue what you're on about." He utters in a manner that manages to be put-off and nonchalant in that  _Lucifer_ way that never fails to bemuse her. "I don't cause anyone to be ill at ease around me. If they cannot handle my presence, that, my dear, is their problem." He says with his signature cocksure arrogance and she can barely contain her laugh this time. The sound easier and less odd. The knot she hadn't been aware in her chest loosening as most of her tension dissolves.

Not all of it. But, most of it, for sure. He's good at that, she realizes.

"Now." He starts, taking a step so suave and confident towards her that her heart skips a traitorous beat (she's just in it, isn't she?). "Are you going to join me to the car or do you have another urge to slam the door in my face?" 

"I'm not gonna slam the door in your face again." She assures, feeling the corners of her mouth tilt up at the oddity of the comment and the playfulness that glimmer in his eyes as a result.

"Well." He presents his hand to her, the gesture gentlemanly and catching her off-guard once more. "Shall we, then?"

She truly is. Completely in it.

And if she happens to feel electricity run through her body when she takes his hand...

...it's only her and him that happen to know that.

 

 

He takes her to an Italian restaurant she's never been to before that's near the water with a large veranda that the knowing hostess leads them to after greeting  _Mr. Morningstar_ by name, complete with twinkling lights overhead.

He lays his palm on the small of her back as she leads them to a table set with candles and silverware.

It's perfect. She hadn't known exactly what to expect with Lucifer but, this is a really good start.

It's nice. Low-key. Unexpectedly so. From him most of all.

Nice and low-key and romantic.

Oh, lord.

In lieu of saying that, though, she remarks on the atmosphere and choice of location.

Because apparently, she has also forgotten what conversation entails on dates.

Well, not really. She just understands that the most of your basic, garden-variety date questions are irrelevant here.

They know each other already, for one. Still got a lot to learn - especially with him - but, point being, they're familiar with each other. 

"Champagne, Mr. Morningstar?" 

They both turn in the direction of their waitress - a tiny strawberry blonde with a name tag saying, 'Candace' - standing next to well-dressed man holding out a large bottle of bubbly.

She doesn't have half a mind to say anything before Lucifer's gesturing and affirming towards the  _obviously_ expensive bottle and they set it down before they're gone and leaving their premium guests alone once again.

She eyes the enormous bottle sitting on ice before them.

"Stop that."

Her head snaps back from staring to look at her date - her stomach has to stop doing that flippy thing when the word date pops up - who's looking at her like he knows exactly what it is she's thinking.

She would not be surprised if he does.

"What?"

"It's not necessarily been a point of discussion in our relationship at present but..." He meets her eye squarely from across the table. "...Money won't be a talking point. Not tonight. Tonight I will buy you a wonderful dinner and then next time, if you wish it so, you can handle the tab. Is that feasible enough?"

She blinks at him, taken aback. 

(Boy, he's really making it hard for her to think this wasn't a good idea.

Not that she thought that. Of course, not that she didn't- well -)

That good old Decker stubborn streak, of course, rears it's head then. "I don't usually bargain on dates." She says pointedly, jutting her chin out at him.

He shakes his head. "Not a bargain, darling, just a suggestion." He smiles at her with all his charm. "To make you comfortable, of course."

Damn him.

The words stream out of her mouth just as they pop up in her head. "How do you feel about cheap Chinese?"

The corners of his lips tilt up as if to hide how amused he is by her and it inkles at her that this isn't the first time she hasn't been annoyed by that. His dark eyes and angular features emphasized by candlelight... making her heart almost _stop_. "If it gets me another evening with you..."

He doesn't at all have to finish that sentence and it doesn't quite hit her until after appetizers of caprese and house salad that she has just given him an opening to a second date.

 

 

After dinner - she has the classic mushroom risotto with truffles and he, the _papperdelle bolognese_  - she tries _very hard_ to not peek at the bill as Lucifer pays for their meal and once she's grabbed her purse and makes for the parking lot, she's surprised to be stopped by her date ( _stop blushing, Decker_ ).

"I wondered if we could..." He nods toward the beach in full view of the restaurant. "...Take a stroll."

He's not really asking and honestly, he wouldn't be him if he had and this whole evening - the _whole_ of the five months that she has known him - has been one oddly great time that she's come to enjoy so, she feels herself nod and once again, takes his hand...

...except this time, he doesn't let go and she doesn't bother to tell him to.

He allows her his arm as support so she can take off her shoes to sink her toes in the sand even though he doesn't, instead only removing his jacket and she recalls being a little girl with her dad taking her to the beach for a day on her birthday. On family day trips. Celebrations. Holidays.

(She had never really had to ask her mom why she'd bought herself a house on the beach years after her father died.)

She sighs, gazing out into the dark ocean. The salty tang of the night breeze from the water blowing her hair. Causing her to let go of Lucifer's hand to curl more into the long sleeves of her thin sweater. "Look at it." She utters, letting the wistfulness of the moment wash over her. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes." She hears him, close and next to her. "Yes. It is."

Something in his voice makes her turn to him to find him looking at _her_ instead of the waves crashing in front of them.

It makes her exhale a laugh and she shakes her head despite the emerging curl of her lips. "I meant the ocean."

"What ocean?"

She does smile this time, rolling her eyes and trying desperately to find that semblance of irritation within herself that she used to always count on when around him. "You never stop, do you?"

He chuckles, voice chock full of charisma and _Luciferness_. "Well, let's face it, darling, it's not like you want me to."

They share a laugh and she goes ahead before she can stop herself and knocks her shoulder against his and after it dies down, their attention turns back to the view of crashing waves and darkness beyond it and the twinkling stars in the sky.

Which is where she finds his eyes gazing intently at a moment later. Something serious and grave tugging at his handsome face.

She remembers meeting him for the first time at Lux. Watching him for a short while from the corner before approaching him for questioning. The spotlight highlighting his dark hair and the wide slope of his shoulders as the muscles moved beneath his clothes in tandem with his long, elegant fingers playing the piano.

She had felt something then. An inkling of attraction that she done her hardest to ignore the moment she'd starting asking him questions only for him to flirt with her so outrageously in return.

She had tried. She had tried _so hard_... and now she's on a date with him. A very good one. She knows him well enough to know that he's a better man than she had believed him to be. Better than _he_ believes himself to be.

"Hey." She touches his wrist to reel his attention back to her. "What's up?"

His dark, lovely eyes turn back to her and her breath catches _again_. She thinks she loves his eyes a little bit. In the beginning she'd tried telling herself that they were too damn dark to be appealing or only made him look a bit sinister sometimes but - _but_ -

That's not true, is it? At least not to her. Not anymore. She's quickly figuring out that they may be one of her favorite features of his. She likes the way it compliments his almost black hair (his _hair_ , oh dear god) and expresses his emotions even when he can't put them into words himself. Or how they twinkle when he's being clever or smiling or... looking at her.

Much in the same way he's looking at her now.

"What's wrong?" She asks softly. A need burning in her gut to know what's on his mind.

He turns those eyes back to the ocean once more, voice coming out with the same uncharacteristic wistfulness she'd expressed earlier. "This beach is the same one Maze and I arrived at after, well..." He glances at her. "...You understand."

 _His second Fall_. Is the thought that jostles her out of nowhere and she takes a minute ( _two_ minutes) for the inevitable doubt to set in. Even though it's been dulled considerably by growing respect, professionalism, and admittedly, a great fondness, she has always held onto the belief that he's little off. Maybe crazy. Damaged and broken by past events so much that he'd reverted to an imaginary identity. An all-powerful, dark lord to protect himself from further harm.

Only... she's not so sure anymore.

And he brought her here. To the spot that literally brought him down to earth.

"You're really him, aren't you?" She asks softly after a long moment of silence of gazing at his forlorn profile. The strong, steady line of his jaw. "The Devil." She elaborates when he looks at her again. "You're the Devil..." She breathes unsteadily, feeling a burn behind her eyes that she wants to ignore. "...You're really the Devil. You're not just crazy, are you?"

They hold the other's gaze and she sees the resolve in his dark eyes. Something steely that she'd only seen once before two nights ago in that warehouse with Malcolm.

 _oh_.

oh.

oh god!

"Oh." She says out loud.

"I have tried telling you." He utters quietly through the noise in her brain and she so badly wants to...  _scoff_. Or something. Any bit of her normal behavior would be great right now.

Instead she raises a hand as if calling for a timeout. "Just give me a minute."

He does and stays back a bit, to her surprise, keeping a good distance from her as she gathers herself.

Because it takes a good amount of time to digest that your partner is the actual, real-deal,  _straight-from-the-fucking-bible_ Devil!

She thought she was better than this. She makes a living out of putting clues together and coming to a conclusion with them, for crap's sake!

Why didn't she do the same with this?!

Because... because she hadn't believed. Because she doesn't go to church on Sundays and hides a scoff when the prospect of Trixie's religious studies come up.

Because she's been an atheist since her dad died.

"I must say..." The man, standing a few feet away from her, says after a few good minutes. "...This is not the way I pictured this evening ending."

He's trying to make light of it, she notes. He's trying to be as glib and easygoing as he always is.

But, she's become good at reading him and she can hear the bitter resignation, however thinly veiled it may be, creeping  into his voice. 

And when she faces him in response, he's expressionless. Careful blankness set over eyes that sparkled for her a few moments ago.

"Lucifer-"

"I can take you home if you'd like." He interrupts, though he looks like that's the exact opposite of what he wants. Jaw tight and his pant leg jangling from one side to another.

"That's not what I want."

He allows a bit of relief to bleed through his eyes, she notes, as if he can barely help it but, otherwise remains mute and blank.

And it's that and the careful way he's kept his distance this whole time that causes her to breach it and edge closer to him. "I trust you." She says softly, taking a brief second before reaching out and taking his hand, waiting until he meets her eye completely to continue. "I trust you more than anyone." She admits without much thought to stop herself.

His much larger hand folds into hers and the look in his eyes instantly takes her back to the other night in her living room.

She hadn't realized how badly she had wanted him to kiss her until then.

Now. She thinks. Now would be better.

They're both not emotionally compromised and she doesn't have to worry about her daughter walking in on them.

Later, she still wouldn't recall who reached for who first but, the end result is the same anyway.

She never thought - in the private spaces of her mind that indulged such fantasies - that Lucifer would kiss like this. That  _their_ first kiss would be like this.

Tender. Soft. Gentle even.

Even his hands stay at a respectable place on her waist as she fastens her hold on the back of his neck. Huching down to her to even out their heights as they kiss.

It's so wonderful she thinks she could this all day.

Eventually (this is Lucifer, after all), something's gotta give and when she leans up and into him, accidentally scratching her nails along the baby hairs at the nape of his neck, the Devil Himself groans as if in utter agony and gathers her to him in an embrace both possessive and true. A swipe of his tongue turning their kiss into something infinitely deeper. Passionate.  _Filthy_.

She moans as she tastes notes of spices and wine and the brace of mint from after their meal. 

He's clutching her so close that all she can do is feel all 6'3" of firm muscle and strong, confident hands gripping her dress tightly in that he's almost bunching it up her legs and a fierce zip of desire shoots and settles to simmer in her lower belly as he ends the kiss with a short, sharp nip to her bottom lip.

Her heart racing like never before, she slowly opens her eyes, her body swaying in her partner's embrace when he doesn't release her and her hands lay on his chest where his own heartbeat thumps madly.

And she did that. She caused that.

Her eyes finally flutter to meet his already dark, penetrating gaze, liquid and glinting, staring at her in a way that she can't think that he has before.

Big hands holding her face as she tries catching her breath, he utters. "Oh my... You are a wonder, aren't you?"

He sounds as though he might be in trouble with that information and she honestly hasn't a clue that she can't say the same.

 

 

In the end, they wind up here holding hands all the way to the car and she gives his a good squeeze before letting go to get into it.

He drives her home instead even  _attempting_ to invite her to Lux and frankly, she's both disappointed and relieved that he doesn't.

She's even more surprised - she shouldn't be, this whole evening has been proving this - when he quickly routes to the passenger side to escort her out of the car.

She thinks she might be liking this side of him more and more.

"Well..." They stop outside her door and she turns to him leaning against it while gazing at her with something akin to fondness and an affection that makes her chest grow warm. "I had a really good time tonight."

She refuses to say nice because that is the type of word someone uses when a date's been anything but.

And she did have a good time with him.

She sincerely needs him to know that.

"You mean, of course, with the exception of the-"

"Even that." She interrupts, stepping closer to him with a curl to her lips. Taking his hand with her much smaller one as he looks down at her with his own emerging half-smile.

Of course, standing this close to him, looking as handsome as she's ever seen him (and the  _memory_ of that moment on the beach), she kisses him again.

It's short and quicker than before and she knows she's smiling when it ends.

"Do this again?" She asks softly, fingering the bottoms of his white shirt and peering up at him through her lashes. "Maybe soon?"

"Friday." He says after a moment of gazing at her. "Next week, perhaps?"

She blinks. "That's... a bit far."

He chuckles. "Miss me already?"

"Shut up." She kisses him again for that to request take and he indulges for a long minute. 

"I have a bit of business to take care of, that's all." 

(She tries very hard not to think about the other night after the hanger. His having to leave her. His obvious reluctance to do so.

He has something going on. She knows that. Something that she'll have to ask about later.)

Going against her basic detective instincts, she nods instead. "Friday, then?"

"Friday." He affirms and she forces herself not to fluster when he cradles both of her hands to his face, placeing kisses on both her knuckles and inhaling her skin as though branding it into his memory.

The expression on his face alone causing a limp to grow inside her throat.

"Goodnight, darling." He says, looking her in the eye knowingly.

Crap. He'd noticed that night, hadn't he?

She watches him leave with a sigh on her breath and a song in her heart.

She doesn't allow either to calm again until she's closed her door behind her.

And no, the smile on her face doesn't let up either.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know!! Very, truly sorry this took so long. And no, I haven't seen the new season yet. Don't tell me about it. I'll watch it when I'm good and ready. 
> 
> The end. Thanks for reading! :$

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! I love this show so much and would very much appreciate some feedback! Thanks for reading!! :))
> 
> Prompt Alert: Can somebody write me an established relationship fic with these two where they've been together for a bit but, either haven't yet had sex or Lucifer's been more gentle and soft for the most part and Chloe goes to see him at Lux at the end of the night and gets hit on by somebody and even though she brushes him off, Lucifer can't help it and afterwards drags his lady love upstairs and gets all possessive and rough? Like seriously puts her through the paces of things she's never experienced? And she's openly nervous but, very into it?
> 
> Can somebody please write that for me? As a gift? I would really appreciate it!! ;)


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